


Rewind

by gaysandcrime



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Dursley Bashing, Eventual Smut, First Kiss, First Time, Gay Harry Potter, Harry Potter is a Horcrux, Harry is a curious boy, Horcruxes, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Possessive Tom Riddle, Powerful Harry, Pre-Hogwarts, Professor Tom Riddle, Sex, Slash, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slytherin Harry, Time Travel, Voldarry, Young Harry, Young Tom Riddle, anti-muggle behaviour, tomarry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 13:18:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8669179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaysandcrime/pseuds/gaysandcrime
Summary: What if Voldemort had realized Harry was a Horcrux and decided to do something about it? A story of time travel, alternate timelines, enhanced magical abilities and lots of slashy goodness.





	1. A Strange Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Sadly, HP Universe is not mine. I just borrow it for non-commercial purposes. Anything recognizable belongs to the rich blonde, but the rest is mine.

** Prologue: **

 

_Harry listened to the piercing screams of the muggle scum as they wreathed on the ground, their bodies contorted painfully. He flicked his wand, again and again, watching the stream of red light as it struck them and turned them into gibbering messes. His laughter was high and cold and sounded like the promise of death. His hooded, masked companions formed a circle around him and his prey, and he could hear them laughing with him._

_"And ssso my risssse beginsssss!" His voice was a sharp hiss, and Harry felt his lipless mouth stretch into a grotesque smile. He raised his wand arm high above his head in triumph and laughed. Black and green smoke poured from the tip of his wand, rising high above them all. It twisted and swirled, forming the image of a skull and a snake intertwined intimately. His companions raised their arms as well and did the same._

_The muggles screams faded as his cold, terrible laughter grew louder, and thunder boomed across the sky, flashes of lightning lighting up the terrible and fearsome dark mark which sat high in the air._

_Harry looked down at the muggles huddled on the ground and lowered his wand, the tip glowing and sparking. He smiled his terrible smile and said his two favorite words._

_"Avada kedavra!"_


	2. A Man Called Tom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom visits Privet Drive, and Harry's not sure what to make of him.

Harry was jolted from his sleep by a loud banging noise on the door of his cupboard. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, still half asleep, and squinted at the door of his cupboard.

"What?"

"Get up!" The shrill voice of Aunt Petunia rang out through the grate in the door, and Harry sighed. Shoving his glasses onto his face, he crawled forwards and changed into some proper clothing (if one could call Dudley's hand-me-downs _proper_ clothing) before opening the door and stepping out. As he turned around to see where his Aunt had gotten to, he couldn't help but blink in surprise at the sight in front of him. His aunt, uncle, and cousin were all rushing about furiously, startled and uneasy looks upon their faces as they straightened out random objects in the sitting room, and tidied up the already perfectly tidy kitchen. Aunt Petunia even started to dust the absolutely dustless sideboard, and Harry was baffled when he caught sight of Dudley attempting to fold the blanket which usually sat on the back of one of the sofas.

"Uh, what's going on?" he asked, not really sure if he was dreaming still, or if he was possibly in an alternate universe. No one answered his question, and he watched Dudley struggle for a moment with the blanket, before stepping forwards to help him. His cousin's inability to fold even a simple blanket would have been pathetic, except that Harry was pretty sure it was the first time he'd ever had to do it in his entire life. When they had successfully folded the blanket and placed it on a sofa, Harry tapped his cousin on the shoulder lightly.

Dudley turned around, and Harry leaned in a bit to say, "What's going on? Why are they both...so..." he gestured towards the two adults. Dudley glanced at his parents, who were both looking around frantically as if any possible flaws would announce themselves at a glance.

"I dunno, dad said that someone's coming to visit." He immediately plopped down onto the sofa, as if those nine words had used up all of his energy.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Who?"

Dudley shook his head. "He didn't say."

"Really? Well they must be important. Really important." Harry sat down next to his cousin and watched his aunt and uncle in fascination. Dudley grunted in agreement and pulled a candy bar out of his sweater pocket.

Both Petunia and Vernon continued to rush around the room until the sound of the doorbell ringing caused them to freeze before both rushing to the door. "Oh no, he's early!" Petunia wailed, wringing her hands as she stood behind her husband in the front hall. They both took a moment to check their appearances in the mirror on the wall beside them before Vernon flung open the door with a wide smile. "Welco-,"

He was cut off when the man in front of him shoved a pamphlet into his face and started preaching about God and Jesus. Vernon sputtered for a moment, before giving a wordless, mangled shout and slamming the door in the man's face. Both he and Petunia returned to the living room, shoulders tense and lips pursed in displeasure. They took a seat on the sofa opposite Harry and Dudley. The four of them stared at each other in silence, the ticking of the clock and the crunching of Dudley's candy bar as he chewed the only sounds to be heard. Harry watched as his aunt's eyes flickered every few seconds to the clock on the wall, and he couldn't help but feel incredibly curious about their mysterious visitor. He watched this go on for a few more minutes, before opening his mouth to ask who exactly they were expecting. He was cut off, however, by three sharp knocks on the door.

Petunia and Vernon turned towards one another, their eyes wide before both glanced at the clock. They stood up silently, brushing their clothing down, and Petunia nodded to her husband before slipping into the kitchen. Vernon's mustache twitched slightly as he made his way to the front door. This time he pulled it open slowly, cautious of who might actually be on the other side. He smiled in relief when he saw who was standing there and greeted them warmly, ushering them inside. Harry quietly got up and slid over to the wall, glancing around the corner to see what all the fuss was about. His eyes took in the tall man who stood just inside the front door, and he tilted his head slightly to the side. _That's who all the fuss is about?_ he thought incredulously. _That's the special visitor?_

The man was pale and thin, standing at least four inches taller than Vernon Dursley, who was by no means a short man, and yet didn't look a day over twenty. His coat was long and dark, and he wore equally dark suede gloves on both of his hands. As Vernon was offering to take his coat and scarf so that he might be more comfortable, the stranger glanced up and caught Harry's gaze. Harry jolted backward, moving quickly away from the corner and back to his seat on the sofa, hoping that the man hadn't seen him spying.

"Come in, come in! Pleasure to have you, so glad you could come!" Vernon's voice was jovial and loud as he led the man into the sitting room. He gestured towards the empty sofa, and the man took a seat. His descent was slow and graceful, and unless one was looking very, very carefully they would not have noticed the grimace of disgust which flashed across his features. Harry was the only one who noticed and wasn't sure if he was seeing things since when the stranger glanced back up, his face was expressionless once again. Vernon smiled inanely around the room, before stepping towards the kitchen.

"Let me introduce you to my wife! Petunia darling, our guest has arrived." He held the door open as Petunia exited the kitchen with a tea tray in her hands and a wide smile on her face.

"Welcome, welcome! So nice to meet you, I'm Petunia." She placed the tray down onto the coffee table and extended her hand in greeting.

The man stared at her for a moment before inclining his head slightly in acknowledgment. "Thank you for having me." He didn't take her hand, nor did he bother introducing himself. He merely sat and looked at both Vernon and Petunia, his face blank. Petunia awkwardly retracted her hand and set about preparing the tea.

"So!" Vernon announced loudly, trying to break up the heavy silence which had fallen upon them. He opened his mouth to say something more, but closed it again almost immediately, as if he had no idea what to say. Harry watched as the man merely blinked at Vernon slowly. Vernon's fingers twitched and he glanced around desperately, trying to find something -anything- to say. His eyes caught sight of Dudley, who was wiping the chocolate from his candy bar off of his mouth with his sleeve, and he jolted forwards. 

"So!" he said again, clasping his hands in front of him. "Further introductions, eh? This young man is my son, Dudley." He pointed one fat finger at his son, before coming to stand beside him, one large hand resting on the equally large shoulder of his son.

Dudley glanced at the man. "Hullo, sir."

Harry watched intently as the man's eyes flickered with something he couldn't quite figure out before he inclined his head slightly. He did nothing more, and after another few moments of heavy silence, both Petunia and Vernon glanced at each other. They both nodded slightly, although a look of uncertainty passed over Petunia's face. She stepped forwards until she was standing next to where Harry sat. Harry was too busy watching the stranger across from him to notice as her hand clenched and convulsed, before coming up to rest upon his shoulder. He jolted a bit in shock since his aunt almost never touched him -and never voluntarily- before ripping his gaze away from the stranger and turning a bit to glance at her from the corner of his eye.

Petunia attempted to twist her lips into a smile, but they were too busy being pursed with displeasure for the expression to resemble anything but a grimace of distaste. "And this young man is our nephew, Harry. I must apologize in advance for his sloppy appearance and dreadful manners; he's not nearly as well behaved as our Dudley."

The man's dark eyes bored into Harry's own with a gaze so intent that it was almost painful. Actually, the longer Harry and the stranger made eye contact, the more his scar began to hurt. Eventually, Harry forced himself to glance away, the prickling in his scar becoming too much. He scratched at his forehead surreptitiously, trying not to disturb his fringe which kept the scar hidden. The stranger smiled slightly and straightened up.

"I see," he said softly. He barely glanced at Petunia before he continued. "Your nephew? Does that mean..." He trailed off, letting the Dursley's fill in the blanks.

"Yes, he's an orphan. Both his parents died when he was a baby, and we've taken care of him ever since." Petunia's hand clenched tightly on Harry's narrow shoulder.

The stranger watched Harry for a moment longer, before suddenly standing up and stepping forwards. He came to a stop directly in front of where Harry sat and stared down into curious green eyes. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter," he said, extending a hand in greeting. His voice was soft and friendly, but his eyes were piercing and dark with hidden meaning that Harry couldn't decipher. Harry slowly extended his hand.

"You as well, sir," Harry said, his eyes drawn to the man's intent gaze despite the pain he could feel in his scar.

The man held Harry's hand within his own for a moment, before releasing his grip and stepping back. "Please, call me Tom."

Harry hesitated, before nodding slightly. Petunia's hand was grasping his shoulder in a vice-like grip, her nails digging into his skin, and he could see his uncle's red face and twitching mustache from the corner of his eye. Both his Aunt and Uncle were furious with the fact that 'the freak' was the one getting the attention from the man _-Tom­-,_ but neither said a word about it as they asked if he would please stay for tea and offered him a tour of the house. As Vernon passed Harry, he leaned down.

"Get into your cupboard, boy, and stay there! And if I hear a single peep from you, you'll be missing dinner for a month, understand?" His whisper was furious, and Harry nodded quickly, not even chancing an audible 'yes, sir' as he fled to his cupboard and shut the door behind him, leaving himself in relative darkness. The only light which entered the cupboard came from the open grate near the top of the cupboard door, and Harry sat with his face as close to the grate as possible, wanting to catch at least one more glimpse of the man before he left.

Only when Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had finished the tour and Tom had declined tea, did Harry see him again. He was slipping on his long, dark coat and winding the scarf around his neck, and Harry felt compelled to watch as the pale hands slipped themselves into dark gloves. He leaned as far into the grate as possible, trying to watch as Vernon led Tom to the door. It was as Tom was leaving that Harry caught sight of his dark, intense eyes once again, and time seemed to stop. Green stared intently into brown, and just before the door shut, Harry shivered and pulled himself back. He blinked slowly, trying to dispell the feeling that somehow Tom had been staring straight into his mind, or maybe even his soul.

It wasn't until much later in the day that Harry realized Tom had called him by his last name, even though he'd been introduced as only 'Harry'.


	3. A Strange Voice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has another one of those weird dreams, and then hears Tom's voice inside his head.

 

> _He sat at the head of the table, stroking the scales of the snake in his lap. The others sat around him, their heads bowed and their voices soft mutters in the night. Harry was pleased -very pleased- and decided to celebrate with his favorite curse. Reaching out with his wand in his hand, he pointed it upwards until it was directed at the woman hanging from the chandelier above._
> 
> _"Charity Burbage, sssso glad you could... join usss." The snake in his arms twitched and his followers lapsed into anticipatory silence._
> 
> _The woman slowly lifted her head and met his gaze. "Dumbledore will find you, and he will stop you!" Her voice wavered under the hatred in his red gaze, but she refused to cower._
> 
> _Harry felt a deep, violent rage rise up inside of him, and he directed it out through his wand. "Silence, mudblood scum! Crucio!" The stream of red light hit the woman's body, and her screams filled the air. He watched dispassionately for a few long moments, before ending the spell. The woman's screams turned into whimpers of pain as her muscles convulsed and her limbs twitched in the aftermath._
> 
> _"Your preciousss Dumbledore isn't here to sssssave you now," he hissed in satisfaction, once again lovingly stroking the cool scales of the snake in his arms. "Nagini!" The snake in his arms twitched, and rose up to slide on top of the table. Her eyes glowed and her scales shone in the flickering light of the fire as she slithered her way down the table towards the hanging woman. Harry's followers began to laugh and jeer, watching the woman struggle futilely against the ropes which bound her._
> 
> _The woman's voice rose up above the sounds of laughter as she twisted her body around to face one of the cloaked men at the table. Her eyes were wide and pleading as she said, "Severus, please!" but the man sitting there merely looked at her, his face a blank mask. The sounds of laughter grew louder in response to this desperate and useless cry for help, and Harry watched with a sick, putrid joy when Nagini's fangs glittered in the firelight as she opened her jaws._
> 
> _He hissed softly, watching the violent death of the Muggle Studies Professor in glee. "Goodbye, Charity Burbage."_

 

Harry woke up with a jolt and his eyes flew open in the darkness of his cupboard. He listened to his gasping breaths for a few minutes, trying not to think about the strange dream he had just had. He'd been having more and more of these strange dreams, and he didn't know where they were coming from. Unlike many dreams, they had a sort of odd resonance to them that made Harry want to laugh and cry at the same time. It was almost like he was remembering things, but that couldn't be true; those things had never happened to him. He didn't carry around a weird pale stick thing or have a giant snake.

He shook his head to try and clear his thoughts, knowing that if he continued to think about it, he would never be able to get back to sleep. He turned over a few times, attempting to get comfortable, but kept bumping into the sides of his cupboard. Harry sighed; he really was getting too big for the tiny space. Just as he was finally drifting off, he heard a soft voice whisper his name.

_"Harry..."_

His eyes flew back open and he sat up, peering around his cupboard. "Who's there?" he whispered back, but he already knew that there wasn't anyone else in his cupboard; they wouldn't fit. He sat very still for a few more moments, wondering if the person was outside the cupboard door. He immediately tossed that idea aside- after all, the voice had sounded very close. Almost as if it were coming from his very head....

_"Hello, Harry Potter."_

No. No way. Could it be?...

"Tom?" Harry whispered uncertainly into the darkness, and he heard a chuckle in answer. But that time he was _sure_ the voice had come from his head.

_"Yes, Harry, it is I."_

"Are you in my head? How'd you get in there? Am I crazy? Uncle Vernon say's only crazy people hear voices inside their heads."

Tom's voice was amused. _"Yes, my voice is inside your head, no you are not crazy; I am able to speak to you like this because of your scar. It gives us a connection."_

Harry scrunched up his face in confusion and raised a hand up to his forehead. "My scar?" he asked, as he traced the lightning bolt shape with his finger. "How? What connection?"

But Tom merely said, _"I don't think you're quite ready for that story just yet. Another time, perhaps. And there is no need to speak out loud, Harry. I can hear you if you use your mind just as well."_

The young boy laid back down and cuddled up under the blankets. _"Really? Can you hear me now?"_ he thought sleepily, trying his hardest to focus his thoughts and direct them at Tom, hoping it would work; he'd never spoken to someone in his head before.

Tom chuckled again and said quietly back, _"Yes, Harry. Now, get some sleep, and I promise to visit soon."_

Harry yawned and closed his eyes. _"Alright. G'night, Tom."_

Tom's voice faded out slowly. _"Goodnight, Harry Potter."_

Harry fell back to sleep and dreamt of a tall man with long pale fingers and dark hair. When he woke up the next morning, he couldn't remember anything from the night before, except that it had been a pleasant one.


End file.
